Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Loss and hurt,
hidden under my shirt,
completely shattered,
unpleasant and tattered.

A glass of wine,
music plays,
torturing myself
with memories.

Salty tears flavor
GewΓΌrztraminer,
and lubricate fingers,
the glass harp I play.

A damaged heart,
from loves disappearance,
improves over time,
but is never fine.
The Fire Burns
Written by
The Fire Burns  M/Artesia, NM
(M/Artesia, NM)   
66
   Keith Wilson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems